


shooting stars

by em_gray



Series: AU fic challenge [10]
Category: The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue Series - Mackenzi Lee
Genre: "15k of Unfiltered Dumbassery and Yearning", Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Cinderella AU, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Fluff, Happy Ending, Historical Inaccuracy, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Lots of it, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Pre-Relationship, also did you know orchestras weren't really a thing until the 1600s? fun fact, as in loosely inspired, but it was a good thing so i'm allowed, dw it ends well, hms died prior to this fic bc i didn't wanna write him in, i recycled a thing from mamm, im sorry i didn't try at all, just a bit, this got super cheesy enjoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25017997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/em_gray/pseuds/em_gray
Summary: Prince Henry "Monty" Montague is turning eighteen, and his mother has organized a masked ball for him to find a bride. Percy, his best friend, wishes he could attend, but it's simply not possible. Or... is it?
Relationships: Henry "Monty" Montague/Percy Newton
Series: AU fic challenge [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640491
Comments: 36
Kudos: 37
Collections: TGGTVAV AU Challenge Fics, tggtvav week 2020





	1. The Ball

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goldenthunderstorms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenthunderstorms/gifts), [pinstripedJackalope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinstripedJackalope/gifts).
  * Inspired by [hopeless](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24035356) by [goldenthunderstorms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenthunderstorms/pseuds/goldenthunderstorms). 



> at long, long, /long/ last, here's round ten of our challenge fic series! (the delay is entirely my fault tbh). for this fic i went with monty's birthday from goldenthunderstorms' fic hopeless (which is so good omg), combined it with the fairy tale prompt from tggtvav week day 6 and the vague cinderella au idea i had lying around for a while, and it turned into... this. enjoy!

**Percy**

The castle is buzzing like a beehive when I arrive there in the morning. It’s usually pretty busy, but tonight’s celebrations have everyone running all over carrying all sorts of things and yelling things at each other. I carefully make my way through, trying not to run into anyone or anything. When I reach the second floor, things quiet down.

The guards at his door let me pass without question. I knock, listen for a response, expecting not to get one. I open the door and quietly go inside.

Unsurprisingly, he’s still abed. Most curtains are closed, but as it’s a bright day sunlight peeks in through the gaps. One ray falls onto his bed, painting a stripe of gold over his back and making his hair appear golden. I cross the room and sit down beside him. The mattress dips in and he slides an inch toward me, but doesn’t wake.

I watch him for a while. He’s lying in an awkward knot of blankets, face pressed into the pillow with his mouth half-open and his hair a mess, and he somehow manages to still look so goddamn gorgeous. It should be illegal.

Though perhaps the only thing that should be and probably is illegal is me having these kind of thoughts about the Prince.

I sigh deeply and decide to wake him before I embarrass myself any further. I reach out and brush a strand of hair out of his face, letting my hand linger on his jawline. He stirs, breath catching. Then his eyes flutter open. As soon as he sees me, he smiles, and my heart jumps.

_Oh, to be the reason he smiles._

“Ugh,” is the first thing he says. He presses his eyes closed again, rolling over so he’s lying on his side, burying his face further in the pillow with a sigh. “Morning, darling,” he mumbles.

 _You’re beautiful_ , I think. “You look terrible,” I say.

He scoffs, a small smile on his lips. “Is that how you talk to your Prince?”

“No,” I say. “It’s how I talk to my best friend.”

He smiles. “What time is it?” he asks, his voice still delightfully husky.

“Three in the afternoon.”

“Ugh.”

I let him doze for a bit, getting up to open the curtains. I look out to the courtyard. Everyone is setting up for tonight. Well. Everyone except the person they’re celebrating.

“I ran into your mother,” I say. “She’s sending in the tailors at four and expects you in the ballroom at five to greet the guests.”

His response is a groan, muffled by the pillow. Then he says something I don’t understand.

“What?” I sit back down.

“Don’t want to,” he repeats, eyes still closed.

“It’s _your_ party.”

He waves off the comment. “Yeah, yeah.”

He pulls a pillow closer to hug it to his chest. One of his hands ends up brushing the inside of my arm, and it’s ridiculous what kind of a shock that sends through me. I don’t move. Monty’s completely oblivious to what he’s doing to me - always is. He’s clingy and a flirt and we’ve been friends since we were little, so there’s almost no limit to what physical affection we’ll tolerate from each other. He’s my best friend and I’m… hopelessly in love with him.

Monty’s been complaining about this party for weeks. I haven’t been looking forward to tonight, either, but I’m sure that’s for a completely different reason. Officially, it’s to celebrate his eighteenth birthday, but everyone knows informally it’s an occasion for Monty to meet a wealthy Princess to marry. And that’s the best for everyone - for the kingdom and even for Monty - but that doesn’t make it any less painful.

The death of Monty’s father a few years ago was the best thing that ever happened to him. It’s not well to speak ill of the dead, but that man was a monster, and Monty still carries the scars from that - literally and figuratively. The first months were rough, but the royal family has been healing. The Queen, who’d been in her husband’s shadow for as long as I can remember, finally took responsibility - both to the kingdom and to her family. She struggles at times - they all do - but it’s remarkable how well she’s taken over. I know Monty still doesn’t really get along with her, and I can’t blame him; sixteen years of absence isn’t an easy thing to forgive. But they’re managing.

“Speaking of which,” I say, tapping his nose to get his attention. “Happy birthday.”

He smiles. “Thanks, darling.” He opens one eye. “Where’s my present?”

“Is me partaking in a concert in your honor tonight not a big present enough?”

“It is not. I’m a Prince. I’m used to luxury.”

“My undying love and affection, then?”

He takes a second to reply. “Getting closer.”

I pull a small package out of my pocket, wrapped in brown paper, and put it down in front of him. He sleepily blinks at it a few times, then pushes himself up and folds open the wrapping. What’s inside is so small that it takes a while of frowning for him to figure out what it is. He picks it up and holds it into the light. It’s a single earring, golden with shooting stars on strands.

“Wait, I’ve seen this before,” he says. “But... that was years ago. How’d you find something that looks so much like it?”

“I didn’t,” I admit. “It’s the one you saw on that market, three years ago.”

He looks at me in confusion.

“I went back and bought it for you, that day,” I explain. Monty had really liked it, but he’d known he wouldn’t be able to wear it with his father still monitoring his life. “Then I forgot about it and recently found it again.”

A smile forms on his face, and my heart flutters. “That’s… whoa. I love it! Thank you!”

He leans in and kisses me on the cheek, and I try very hard not to blush.

“You’re welcome,” I say, as casually as I can manage, but he isn’t even listening anymore, putting in the earring.

“What’d you think?”

He looks lovely, even if it’s just for the bright smile he’s wearing.

“You look great,” I say, and I mean it. Outside, I hear the clock tower chime the hour. I stand up and head for the door. “Don’t go back to sleep.”

He looks up. “Where are you going?”

“Rehearsal. We can’t all afford to do nothing all day long.”

He feigns insult. “I will throw you in the stocks.”

“No, you won’t.”

“See you at the ball?” 

“I’m performing, so.”

“Well, be there, or I’ll be bored to death.”

I make a preposterous bow. “As His Highness demands.”

He throws a pillow at me, far too asleep to have an accurate aim so it hits the wall next to me. I pick it up and toss it back at him, hitting him in the face. He sits up and aims for me again, but I leave the room and close the door behind me.

I’ve still got a smile on my face when I’m passing the courtyard again. The burdens he carries don’t always make him the easiest person to love, but it’s all so much more than worth it, just to get to see that smile on his face and those dimples and to feel his hand on my arm and almost pass out. He’s been doing so much better the last few years. It’s been a long road, full of ups and downs, and it’s been hard, but to get to see him so unabashedly happy and free of worry - it makes my heart strain with pride and love.

This is how he’s supposed to be. This is the happiness he deserves.

And me, well… I’m happy to stay at his side, I suppose, in any way I can.

My thoughts return to the ball tonight. It makes me feel a bit sick, truthfully. I can pretend it’s because I know Monty doesn’t want to marry some Princess he barely knows, but it’d be a lie to claim there are no selfish reasons on my part. It’s foolish, to fall in love with someone you can never be with, but the heart has a will of its own.

I pass by an announcement of the ball. It’s been up for weeks so it’s weather-worn, but it still proudly proclaims ‘ _Announcing a Masked Ball in celebration of the Crown Prince’s Eighteenth Birthday. All eligible young ladies welcome_ ’. Here, ‘eligible young ladies’ is code for ‘wealthy ladies of preferably royal but at the very least noble standing looking for a husband’. I sigh. Monty’s going to meet so many lovely people tonight, and I… I’ll just be the one he comes home to to tell me all about it.

I could never be someone he meets at a ball and who he falls in love with.

Against my better judgment, I entertain the thought for a while. Putting on a mask, wearing fine clothes, having him see me, _really_ see me for once. Out of reach of this line between friendship and romance we never seem able to cross and out of reach of the impossibility of it all; me, nowhere near of noble lineage, both of us men, and…

I sigh.

 _But what if,_ my head insists. _What if._

I’m still lost in thought when I cross the drawbridge and head into town. It’s busy here, too, everyone excited to catch a glimpse of royalty from far away tonight. It’s a Sunday but the market’s packing up early since everyone’s too distracted to focus on such ordinary things. Only one lady is standing near a booth, putting bread in her basket and saying goodbye to the vendor. She’s just crossing the street when a group of children comes running by. She loses her balance and falls.

I rush over, making my way through the crowd to offer her a hand. “Are you all right, miss?”

She looks up, her hood falling back, and I realize right away she is not one of the townsfolk. She’s curvy, her skin spotless, her brown hair well kept, and her dress just a bit too nice to blend in. She lets me help her back on her feet and puts her hood back on.

“Thank you,” she says, a bit out of breath. Then she looks down, at her basket, lying on its side, and the bread on the muddy ground. She sighs, pouting. “That’s beyond saving.”

She turns back to the vendor, who has just began packing his things. “Excuse me, sir? Can I still buy something?”

“We’re closed,” he says, barely looking at her.

The lady looks disappointed and she wants to turn away, but I stop her. “Come on, John,” I say. “It’ll only take a minute.”

John watches me for a moment, then sighs deeply. “Fine. Just because I owe you.”

“Thank you.”

The lady buys a new arrangement of pastries and lets John keep the change, which puts him in a better mood. When he’s turned away again, she says: “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

I shrug. “It’s no effort.”

“Still.”

We walk further into town to get away from the crowd. I’m not really sure where she’s going, but it’s in the right direction toward my aunt and uncle’s house, so I don’t mind the company.

“Are you… planning to attend the ball tonight?” I risk asking after a while.

She looks at me from the corner of her eye. “That obvious, am I?”

“Nah.” I pause. “A little.”

She laughs, a high, pleasant sound. When she sobers up, she says: “Only because my uncle insisted, though. I’ve no real interest in marriage.”

 _Neither does Monty_ , I think. _And neither do lots of girls at the ball tonight. They’re probably all being pressured by their families or simply desire the status and money._ Monty deserves better than that.

“Are you?”

I start. “Am I what?”

She watches me, a curious twinkle in her eye. “Going to the ball?”

“Oh, no. I mean, yes. Technically.” I compose myself. “I play in the royal orchestra.”

“I see,” she says, on a wise tone. A pause. “Do you know the Prince? Is he nice?”

“He is,” I say, right away, before realizing that, from an outsider’s point of view, ‘nice’ might not be the perfect word to describe Monty. Or at least, it wasn’t a few years ago. “I mean… I know him. We’re friends.”

“Friends?”

“Yes, we…” I’m not sure how I’m going to explain this. How does one explain a friendship that goes so far back and so deep that it hurts sometimes? How does one explain getting to see someone’s best and worst moments, and only caring about them more? How does one explain the way childhood friendship can bloom into something more, something impossible? “We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

“That has to be a very special relationship, then.”

 _You have no idea_ , I think. “I’m just… glad I can be there for him when he needs me.”

“I see.”

I get the uncomfortable feeling I’m spilling too much, but what’s done is done. It’s still a few streets before I arrive home. I’ll just have to bide my time until then, or hope she leaves sooner.

“Would you like to attend the ball?”

It’s so in tune with my earlier fantasies that it makes me halt. She stops, too, and looks back, expression innocent. I take a deep breath and force a laugh. “I am, though. Like I said-”

“Not like that. As a guest.”

“That’s impossible,” I say, and it is, though not for reasons I can explain. The ball is open to everyone, I could get inside, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t. “I don’t have…” The courage. The recklessness. The pointless hope. “...a mask.”

She chuckles again. “It’s your lucky day, then.” Her hand goes into her basket - though I could’ve sworn it was empty aside from her purchases - and reemerges with… a mask.

I stare at it for a moment. It’s dark blue with intricate gold details curling around the surface, framing it, with golden ribbons on each side. It’s beautiful.

“You can have it, if you want,” she says.

I look up in alarm. “I couldn’t possibly. It belongs to you.”

She holds the mask in front of her, pretending to study it. “Yes. But this really isn’t my color.” She gives me a dazzling smile. “Take it or I throw it away. Consider it a thank you for your help from earlier.”

Reluctantly, I take it. It’s light, made from expensive materials, and impossibly, seems to hum at my touch. I lift it to my face, wanting to see if it fits, but the lady takes my wrists wide-eyed and pulls them back. “Not here,” she says. She forces her surprise into a smile. “You wouldn’t want people to recognize you tonight, wouldn’t you?”

I lower the mask again, then carefully put it in my pocket. “Thank you,” I say.

“You’re welcome.” She turns her back, heading in the direction we came from, and I realize with a bit of a shock she didn’t need to go this way at all. “Maybe I’ll see you tonight.”

When I enter my room again and close the door behind me, I’m still completely bewildered by my strange encounter. I sit down on my bed and take out the mask again. Even in the dim light, it’s gorgeous. I run my thumb over it, tracing the gold detailing.

It’s funny. Earlier today I was entertaining the idea of attending the ball, and here I am, gifted with a mask from a strange lady who encouraged me to do so. It’s ridiculous, almost. While I can’t argue I don’t have a mask anymore, I still don’t have something decent to wear. And there’s all the hundred other reasons why this is a very, very bad idea.

I smile sadly. It’s nice to imagine what could have been, in another time, if I were someone else. If I could just be someone else for one night.

I put the mask on and tie the ribbons behind my head. It fits well, as far as I can tell. I vaguely consider heading back into the castle to find a mirror, use Monty’s perhaps, to see how I look. Ridiculous, probably. I reach for the ribbons again to take it off - then stop dead in my tracks when I see my hands.

Or rather, not see my hands. I’m suddenly wearing gloves, white with dark blue and gold embroidery, disappearing into intricately decorated sleeves and - 

I jump to my feet and look down. I’m wearing a _completely_ different outfit that I certainly did _not_ put on - that I don’t even own. It consists of a pair of black, heeled shoes with golden buckles, black trousers, a deep blue waistcoat with impossibly fine embroidery and and even deeper blue longcoat, all decorated with gold and stars.

My hands fly up to the mask, fumbling with it. I realize there’s a weight atop of my head, and when I take it in my hands, I see it’s a silver crown. Thin and modest, with no gemstones, but a crown nonetheless.

I rip off the mask.

The crown disappears into thin air, and I’m dressed in my normal clothes again. I’m gasping, staring at the mask, then dropping it. Then jumping across the room to get away from it. Which might be a tad dramatic, but I think I’m allowed to be.

I let myself slide down against the wall until I’m sitting on the floor, knees pulled up, trying to catch my breath and staring at the mask. It lies on the ground, a few feet away from me, looking perfectly innocent.

Okay. I need to calm down. There’s no way that just happened. It’s impossible. It’s ridiculous. I almost start to laugh at the mere _idea_.

I must’ve imagined it. I’ve been dreaming about the ball all day, and when I put on the mask, my mind just played a trick on me. Or I’m actually going insane.

I take a deep breath and slowly stand up. Okay. I imagined it. And to convince myself of that, I’m going to do the only thing I can to verify: I’m going to put the mask back on.

It stares eyelessly at me from the floor. I convince myself to pick it up, hands trembling. _Nothing’s going to happen._

I put the mask back on.

And something _does_ happen.

I’m back in the fine clothes from a moment ago. Almost reflexively, I want to pull the mask off again, get rid of it, burn it or bury it somewhere since this can only be witchcraft - but I force myself to refrain and take another look at myself. I walk to the small window, check if there isn’t anyone outside who might see, then try to catch my own reflection in the glass.

I barely even recognize myself. The mask covers a considerable part of my face, my hair is tied back neatly, and I’m still wearing that stupid crown. The collar of a white shirt with golden edges and a cravat cover most of my neck, and there’s a short cape I hadn’t even spotted yet over my shoulders, held in place by a golden chain.

I look like royalty.

I take a step back, leaning against the wardrobe to support myself. Okay. So this is happening. Some lady gave me a magical mask that gives me a very fancy outfit. Now what do I do with it?

 _You could go to the ball_.

I almost laugh at the idea. An insane and wonderful idea. I look at myself in the window’s reflection again. Would it work? Would people not recognize me? Would… Monty not recognize me?

It could work. If someone would recognize me, I could just lie. And if Monty would see through my disguise, we could laugh it off. We could nick a bottle of wine and find some quiet corner to spend the rest of the night, where I could tell him all about the lady and the weird mask and we’d have a splendid evening nonetheless.

It’s a flawless plan, really.

I take off the mask again and put it in my inside pocket. _Okay. I’m doing this._ When I exit my room, I want to head straight for the castle, but I’m instead met with my guardians who give me a pair of quizzical looks.

“Percy?” my aunt asks. “I thought you’d be at the rehearsal by now.”

Oh. The rehearsal. I’d completely forgotten about that. It’s almost five, and if I show up at this point, I’ll get a long lecture from the conductor without a doubt. Someone else is probably practising in my place right now.

“...Right,” I manage. “That’s what I wanted to say. I’m actually… not feeling well? So I don’t think I’ll be able to make it tonight.”

They both stop dead in their tracks, and I realize what that must sound like coming from me.

“Did you have a…?” my aunt starts, unmistakably ready to flee the room, which makes me also want to flee the room. I take a deep breath to calm myself.

“No. But I think… just in case…”

She nods and stands up. “I’ll go tell the conductor.” Taking the opportunity with both hands, she ends up fleeing the room after all. I try not to think about it too much.

My uncle is still looking at me, something unreadable in his expression, so I say: “I’ll be… in my room.”

The ballroom is dazzling. I’ve been here hundreds of times, but with all the colors and lights and decorations, it leaves even me gawking. It’s full of people, most crowding by the sides, and about a dozen couples dancing in the center. In one corner, near the thrones, the orchestra provides the music.

It’s a bit overwhelming, actually. Everything’s bright and colorful and excessive, and I fear that even if no one will recognize me by looks, they’ll notice right away I haven’t a clue on how to behave at something like this. It’s easy to sit at the sidelines and make fun of all the aristocrats with Monty, but this is… something else. I’m sweating underneath all these layers, feeling awkward, convinced my mask might slide off any second. I tie another knot in the ribbons, just in case.

I’m still lingering in the doorway, clinging to the side as nobility passes me by, barely seeing me. Which is probably for the best. I’m still gathering my courage. _Why did I decide to do this? This is insane._ It’s a terrible idea, really. It’s crazy. It’s reckless, completely, utterly ridiculous, dangerous, and impossible.

_Monty would love it._

The thought gives me strength. I take a deep breath, straighten my back, and enter the ballroom.

I spot Monty across the room - like Felicity, on their mother’s other side, he’s looking rather unhappy to be there. The Queen is smiling - that’s how she always looks these days: tired, but smiling.

The King’s throne has been removed about a year ago.

Monty leans in to say something to his mother. She nods and he stands up, descending the stairs and disappearing into the crowd. I lose sight of him. Panicking mildly - I’m here for him, and I’m pretty sure I’d drown in a crowd like this on my own - I head in the same direction I saw him go.

Maneuvering past all the people - and mostly the wide dresses - takes me a considerable while, and when I’ve finally crossed the hall, he’s gone. I spin around. People all around, laughing and talking, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

_Maybe this was a bad idea after all._

I turn to the nearest balcony, planning to get some fresh air, and then he’s suddenly in my way.

He really looks fantastic. I was present at some of his fittings, just so I could tease him about looking ridiculous and to - well - admire the sights, but nothing could’ve prepared me for this. His clothes are a rich, deep red, detailed with gold thread. He’s wearing his crown - gold with rubies - and his hair still looks messy. His mask is red and golden, and he’s wearing the earring I gifted him. He’s downright _gaping_ at me, mouth hanging open and eyes big, though I’m sure I’m not doing much better. My heart leaps. If anyone is going to recognize me tonight, it’s going to be Monty, so it’s all or nothing right now.

“You look gorgeous,” is what he blurts out, which already throws me off balance. I’m struggling for words and _say something, Percy, he’ll figure it out_ followed right away by _no, don’t say anything, he’ll recognize your voice_ and that is followed by me wondering if that’s something Monty would recall about me and all of this in three seconds as I stand frozen on the spot.

“So do you,” I eventually manage. _Okay, Percy, keep it together, you can do this._ “You must be the Prince.”

He blinks. His mouth starts to form words without saying any aloud, and he’s still staring at me and I sort of very much want to run away. “...I am. But you’re…”

 _Desperately in love with you._ “No one,” I say quickly. “No one at all.”

He stares at me for a moment longer. He says “I’m confused” at the same time as I offer: “Would you like to dance?”

We’re caught in an awkward struggle for words for another second, and I know I messed up, I know I should’ve had a better approach, I know I ruined my chance so I say “I’m sorry”, turn around and start to walk away.

A hand grabs my wrist. When I turn around, he’s looking up at me, big-eyed. “I’d love to dance.”

We both know it would be unwise for us to be seen dancing together, so we make our way to the balcony. We round the corner, out of sight but still close enough to hear the music drifting outside through the windows. We stop. He’s still staring at me as if I’m a dream, and it makes my heart flutter inside my chest.

“All right,” I say. I want to take his hands and realize I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. “I… have no idea how to dance.”

That seems to break his trance. He smiles, and while his eyes still holding that careful confusion, they now shine with fondness. “That’s all right,” he says. He takes one of my hands and places his other on my waist. “Just follow my lead.”

I do. It’s awkward, and clumsy, and we stumble into each other a lot. In the end I think he might be doing it on purpose. We laugh, clinging to each other, and in the end he has his arms around my neck and I have mine resting around his waist. As the song concludes, his nose brushes mine and he’s beaming and I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy.

“Would you like to see the gardens, my lord?”

I falter and open my eyes. He’s looking at me, as if he’s checking for my reaction. “What… did you say?”

“Would you like to see the gardens?” he repeats carefully.

“No, I meant...”

He blinks innocently. “Oh, the ‘my lord’? Pardon me for assuming. It’s just that most people at this party are nobility, and with your clothes, I thought…” Then he grins, a bit wickedly, and nudges my crown. “Or is it ‘Your Highness’?”

I temporarily forget how to breathe.

“I…” I struggle, unable to remember a single word. “I’m- I…”

He refuses to break eye contact, our faces still so close I could kiss him, and he’s got me thoroughly pinned. I came here with the foolish idea I could seduce him, but Prince Henry “Monty” Montague is so much more experienced in this than I am.

“Oh, right,” he says. “You aren’t anyone, are you? So I suppose your title should be kept a secret as well?”

Lacking the ability to do anything else, I just nod.

“I see.” He touches his nose to mine again. “But I must be able to call you something if we intend to share our evening. Ah.” He feigns getting an idea, then leans in - for an alarming moment, I think he’s going to kiss me - but he stops with his cheek brushing mine, then whispers in my ear, maddeningly slow: “What about ‘darling’?”

My breath catches. He moves back again and must see what a complete and utter mess I am at the moment, for he softens, raising a hand to brush a curl out of my face. “I’m sorry, am I overwhelming you?”

 _Overwhelming_ is the understatement of the century. I can’t function anymore. My brain has checked out at the door and all I’ve got left is a pounding heart and a burning desire to kiss him.

So I act on the only impulse I’ve got left.

He lets out a sound, muffled by lips, and moves back - for a second I think I’ve overstepped, but then he grabs me by the lapels and kisses me back, _hard_ . One hand finds its way into my hair, thumb lingering on my jaw, and I’ve got my arms around his neck and _this is everything_ . Everything I ever dreamed of, everything I ever hoped for, _he’s_ everything I ever wanted. And it feels amazing - impossibly even more amazing than I imagined it would be, and not for lack of an imagination on my part. His mouth opens against mine, and _good Lord take me now_. Or rather, don’t. Please let me stay here forever, kissing the most beautiful boy in the world, on the edges of reality.

He starts trailing kisses down my jawline, then my neck, pushing aside my collar, and I need to do something before this kills me. I’m gasping for breath as I take his face in my hands and force some distance between us. He looks up at me, wide-eyed, red-faced and disheveled, and _I did that to him_. The question is in his expression with an absurdly delightful nervousness.

I try to steady my voice. “I believe you were going to show me the gardens, Your Highness?”

He falters for another moment. “...Yes,” he then breathes. “I believe I was.”

The night air is cool and the sky is brilliant with stars. The farther we stray from the palace, the more clearly I can see them, and it takes my breath away. Only a few clouds wander across. I think I spot a few shooting stars. I’m still very aware of the blood rushing through my veins and the warmth on my cheeks, but the soft evening breeze helps me gather my wits.

Monty’s still at my side, three feet between us as we follow the path into the gardens, and I’m sort of glad. If he’d be within reaching distance I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t be able to restrain myself from throwing my arms around him and kissing him again. _I kissed him. I_ kissed _him_. After five years of nursing an impossible crush, I finally kissed him. And he kissed me back. And now we’re here, distancing ourselves from the party and finding peace in the night and the stars and each other.

“Is there something in particular you’d like to see?” he asks me, as we’re passing by the pond. His tone is still so ridiculously formal that it drives me out of my mind. But if that’s the game he wants to play, he’s about to meet his match.

“I trust you’ll be able to provide an interesting tour, my lord,” I reply, voice remarkably even. “Growing up here, you must know all the worthwhile places.”

He scoffs. “I’ve never particularly cared for the royal gardens. My favorite thing about them is that they’re ideal to sneak away to with someone I met at a party.” He grins. “Though I’m sure you’re not interested in any of _those_ spots.”

I swallow, trying to steady my voice, even though it comes out a bit higher than I mean to: “Why would I not be?”

He abruptly shuts up, clearly flustered, and I consider it a victory.

“I… see,” he manages. He clears his throat. “Well, you know they always advise to keep the best for last.” He’s composed himself again, and flashes me a roguish grin. “Would you like to see the flower garden first?”

I’ve been in the flower garden hundreds of times before, in all seasons. It harbors many good hiding spots so it was favored by Monty and I when we were playing hide and seek as children. As we got older, Monty kept using its dark corners to hide himself, and I would go find him as well, but that was for different reasons entirely.

It’s completely different now. The flowers are silhouettes in the moonlight, swaying gently on the breeze, their perfume even more overwhelming. Monty’s walking in front of me, arms folded behind his back, and I’m pretending to study the roses. He stops near a bush of flowers I can’t name - I think they’re blue, though I can’t tell for certain in the dusk - and pulls one toward him. He frowns, looking between me and it, so ostentatiously I know he’s trying to get me to ask. So I do: “Something caught your eye, my lord?”

“Yes,” he replies. “See, I’ve always thought this was the most gorgeous flower in the gardens. I’m trying to see if it compares to you but it simply… doesn’t.”

I almost choke on my own breath, and I know I’m blushing again. I’ve been at the receiving end of Monty’s flirting so many times, often far worse than this, but right now I’m completely in pieces. Normally, his flirting is meant in a purely platonic sense, because we’re friends and that’s what we’ve always been, but right now he doesn’t _know_ . Right now, all I am to him is a stranger he met at a ball, but he’s interested in me nonetheless, _really_ interested in me, and it’s knocking me off balance.

“But.” He picks the flower, then slowly approaches me, and I lose the ability to think straight. “Why compare?”

He stops less than half a foot away from me and raises the hand holding the flower, calmly, leisurely. He carefully places it in my hair, assuring it stays in place. Then, as he lowers his hand again, he traces my jawline with his thumb, so gently that I feel breakable but safe in his hands nonetheless. His breath is still against my lips as he stops, cradling my chin, and smirks. He taps my cheek. “And here I thought you couldn’t get any prettier.”

He kisses my cheek, swiftly, then turns his back and starts walking again, and I’m somehow more undone by that than by our actual kiss from earlier. I brush my fingers over the spot where I can still feel his lips, dazed, and he’s halfway through the garden by the time I can finally convince my feet to start moving again.

He’s waiting for me by the entrance to the maze, eyes on the distant castle, looking perfectly innocent. I know I have to strike back about now, but my head is short-circuiting and no words are coming. “The maze?” I ask, when he’s close enough to hear me. “Are you trying to get us lost?”

“Would you like to be?” he retorts, and there goes the little composure I had left. He smiles. “I know my way in here, don’t worry. Stick close to me and you’ll be fine.”

Truth is, I know this maze almost as well as he does, and I intend to take advantage of it. So when he takes the right in a crossroads, I quietly take the left, following the loop around until I can see him again. I hide behind the corner and watch as he stops, realizing I’m not following him anymore. He turns. Then he goes back a few steps. He spins a full circle, looking around, his back to me. “Uh, darling?” he calls.

As quietly as I can, I sneak up on him. When I’m right behind him, I wait.

“Darling?” he asks again, sounding a little nervous. “Where’d you go?”

I throw my arms around him and lift him off his feet. He yelps, fighting back for a moment, until I put him down so he can turn around in my arms and he sees me. His surprised expression turns peeved, and he tries to suppress a smile. “Hey! You scared me!”

I start laughing, and then so does he, and then we’re clinging to each other while the tears well up in my eyes. The night is starting to chill but right here with him, I feel warm and happy and safe.

When we finally calm down, he lifts his head from where he had it resting against my shoulder. His eyes meet mine and I’m overwhelmed by the love I find in them, love that’s familiar and new all the same. And while our night of flirting and trying to mess with each other has been fun, nothing compares to quiet moments like this, simple and beautiful, where loving him feels like the most natural thing in the world.

He tilts his head up, eyes sliding shut, and I meet him halfway. This kiss isn’t like the one from earlier - it doesn’t have the heat and the hunger; instead, it’s serene and simple, earnest and deep, and it speaks of an understanding I can’t explain. It’s perfect. It’s as it was always meant to be.

Something wet hits my cheek, and I think I’ve started crying, but when another droplet falls on my hand, I realize that it’s raining. Monty’s noticed it too. He moves back, breath still hot against my lips, and looks up; those gorgeous blue eyes looking at the sky and me getting lost in them.

“We should get inside,” he says, still a bit out of breath.

“Yeah,” I reply.

Neither of us move.

It starts raining harder and we slowly disentangle ourselves, still red and smiling. He laces his fingers with mine. “Follow me,” he says.

As we go deeper into the maze, the wind picks up, and the rain turns more violent. We start running. Thunder rumbles above us. We finally reach the little cabin at the heart of the maze. It’s raining so hard it’s difficult to see. Monty pushes the door open and pulls me inside, and I slam the door behind us.

A loud roar of thunder startles us both, and we start laughing.

I’m absolutely soaked. The outer layers of my clothes are heavy with rain, and I feel droplets rolling down my spine and chilling me to the bone. I rub some water out of my face, letting myself slide down to the floor.

“Wow,” Monty says, out of breath. He’s still smiling. “That was intense. You all right?”

“Well.” I spread my arms a little, looking at my clothes. “I’ve been drier.”

He laughs. “Yeah, me too.”

This cabin is another one of those places Monty and I spent a lot of time as kids. The entirety of the castle grounds was our playground, really, but we favored spots like this - hidden spots, where we could pretend no one existed in the entire world but us. The cabin is small and made from wood, with a door and three windows, a table atop a rug and two sofas next to a bookcase. A comfortable place to spend rainy afternoons.

He offers me a hand and helps me to my feet again. I expect him to let go, but his hand lingers against mine, fingers tracing lines in my palm. He hesitates. When he speaks, it’s quietly. “You know, you might catch a cold if you keep wearing those wet clothes.”

My breath catches. We make eye contact, and he’s suddenly looking a bit shy - a very rare expression for him. He looks away quickly, clearing his throat. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, I shouldn’t have-”

I place a hand on his cheek and turn his face toward me again. He’s burning, especially with my hands still frozen from the cold rain.

“Yes,” I say, feeling like I’m jumping off a cliff.

His eyes widen. “Yes?”

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and nod. “Yes,” I repeat. “I do think it’s best if I take these clothes off.” I brush some wet strands of hair clinging to his forehead aside. “And I think you should, too.”

He’s looking at me in a way he’s never looked at me before, eyes briefly going down to my mouth, then back up. Then, he settles into a careful smile. “Would you like some help with that?”

His fingers dance over the clasp of my cape, tentatively, waiting for my permission. I nod. The weight of the cape slides off my shoulders, falling down at my feet. He traces the embroidered gold on my coat, then lets his hands slip under, arms looping around my back, then going back up, briefly lacing his fingers behind my neck, looking at me as if he can’t believe this is real. I’m not entirely unconvinced it’s not a dream, either, but I choose to enjoy it while it lasts.

He pushes the coat off my shoulders. Then, he begins unbuttoning my waistcoat, starting at the top and moving down. I put a hand in his hair, pulling his head toward me and pressing a kiss to his forehead. He looks up, beaming and bright, and that takes away all the restraint I have left in me. I kiss him, and he kisses me back, and suddenly all the serenity is gone, and I’m taking off his clothes and he continues taking off mine and we stumble backward, further into the cabin. We almost trip twice; the second time I catch him and turn us around so I’m pressing him against a wall. I’m about to congratulate myself for such a smooth move, when the momentum we’ve still got makes my crown fall down my face and hit me in the nose. Monty’s weighted breathing breaks into a laugh. I temporarily have to let him go to put the crown aside, taking off his while I’m at it, glaring at him all the while.

“Aw, don’t look so sour, darling,” he teases. “It happens to the best of us.”

I let him persuade me with small kisses to my face and down my neck into mellowing. I feel his hands under my shirt and I start. He notices and pulls back. “Sorry,” he says. “They’re a bit cold.”

I take his arms, guiding them up so his hands end up in mine. I wrap my hands around his, bringing them to my lips to press a kiss against his knuckles. Then I place them to my chest, at the height of my heart, and keep them pressed there to warm up.

Monty watches it for a while, a small smile forming. “Your heart’s beating fast. Something got you excited?”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “Should I be?”

He looks insulted for a moment. Then his eyes get a mischievous glint. “Oh, you wait for it.”

He turns so that it’s me being pressed into the wall, kissing me with so much force that the back of my head collides with the wooden panelling. I kiss him back with at least as much enthusiasm, and then we’re crossing the room again and I’m pulling his shirt over his head. The backs of his legs collide with the sofa and he sits down, dragging me with him, and I almost pitch face first into the window. Monty laughs as he pulls me back toward him so I wind up straddling his legs. My mouth finds his again as his hands go under my shirt, moving down, until-

I gasp. Monty gives me some space to breathe, going back to sucking on my neck. I catch my own reflection in the window. It startles me. I look like… well, first of all, a mess. Second of all… I’m still wearing that mask.

_Monty doesn’t know._

Would it make a difference? If I’d have made a move, just as myself, would we still be here, right now, like this? What if I’d tell him at this point? What would he say? _Oh, hi Percy, I had no idea it was you but I do now so good to know! Anyway, I’m as madly in love with you as you are with me, so now that that’s out of the way, where were we?_

In spite of having Monty so close to me, I suddenly feel cold. Shame wells up. God, what am I doing here? How will we ever move past this? I can’t keep lying forever, and if Monty would find out… if he’d find out _after_ …

He’d feel betrayed. He doesn’t have many people he’s close with to start with. And, well, neither do I. And I risked it all for what? One magical evening?

As sick as the thought makes me, it feels like I’m taking advantage of him.

And Monty deserves better than that.

“Monty,” I say, still out of breath. He doesn’t respond, doesn’t even seem to have noticed I’ve frozen up completely. “Monty. Darling. Stop.”

I take his face in my hands and make him meet my eyes. He’s looking distracted and confused - scared, even.

“What is it?” he asks.

“I can’t.” I force out the words. His eyes widen, and he instantly pulls his hands back. “No. Wait. It’s not you. I just... I can’t do this without you knowing who I am.”

He watches me for a while, eyes darting left and right as if he’s trying to read me. “Tell me, then.”

I take a deep breath and make a decision. “Close your eyes and count to thirty. Then you can open them again.”

He hesitates for a moment. Then he nods. Trusts me. And closes his eyes.

I treat myself to another moment of observing him. His hair is still clinging to his face with the rain. He’s blushing fiercely, lips pinked and slightly parted, and there’s something desperate in the crease of his brow. Waiting patiently, still a little out of breath but perfectly serene. He’s gorgeous, always, no matter what. No matter what he thinks of himself, he’s always been perfect to me. He’s come so far and he’s so brave and wonderful and everything I ever wanted and could never deserve.

Monty deserves the world. He deserves so, _so_ much better than what I can give him.

I press one final kiss to his lips.

Then I run.


	2. The Search

**Monty**

I kissed Percy last night.

I’m _ninety-five percent certain_ I kissed Percy last night.

I’ve been trying to make sense of it all night. I’ve barely slept. Instead, I’ve been staring at the ceiling, going _over_ and _over_ and _over_ what happened in my head, analyzing every little moment, trying to figure out where it went wrong. Or rather - what the hell even happened in the first place.

Percy wasn’t at his normal place in the orchestra - that I’d spotted right away. I’d asked the conductor and he said he’d been told Percy was ill. My first instinct at that was to sneak out to go see if he was all right, but Mother insisted I stayed, at least until the opening dance. When I couldn’t stand it anymore - any of it, all the people, all the pleasantries, the entire goddamn ball - I’d subtly been making my exit. Then I ran into _him_.

I barely believed my eyes. He looked _amazing_ . I might not have recognized him, but everything about him - the way he spoke, the way he acted, everything he did that night (except eloping with me) - was so unmistakingly _Percy_ , and… well. He is my best friend. I know him.

But none of it makes _any sense_ . _Why_ did he pretend not to know me? Why did he run away? Was I going too fast? I think I asked to make sure, and he said yes, and things were going great. Maybe he changed his mind? But why didn’t he just tell me so? And he only ran away when he brought up his real identity. Why did he choose running over dropping the mask?

Why did he claim to be someone else in the first place?

 _Was_ it someone else who just looks and sounds a lot like him? Did he hit his head, get amnesia, and was he accidentally swapped out for one of the noblemen at the party? Does he have an estranged twin I know nothing about? Am I just losing my mind? Was it someone else after all?

It must’ve been him, I’m sure of it. He called me _Monty_ for God’s sake. No one calls me that except for Mother, Felicity, and him.

By the time sunlight peeks in through the windows, I’m so tired and getting more and more convinced last night has been a dream entirely. It didn’t help that, when I returned to the cabin after having dashed outside to see where he was going, all the clothes he’d left behind had just… disappeared.

It really all does sound too good to be true.

When I can’t stand thinking about it any longer, I get out of bed. I take a moment to make myself look decent - I’m still in my clothes from last night - and decide to clear things up by questioning the only person who will be able to tell me.

I sneak out through a side entrance and put up a hood, in case anyone wants to stop me and insist I’m accompanied by guards. I know that the current political climate is rather uncertain, but it’s only a ten minute walk, and I really can’t focus on anything but last night.

His aunt answers the door when I knock. She seems surprised to see me. I’ll admit, it’s usually Percy who comes to find me at the castle rather than the other way around, and I’m looking a bit of a mess.

“Your Highness,” she says. She narrows her eyes. “Percy didn’t mentioned you’d be coming by.”

“He doesn’t know,” I reply, trying to glimpse inside. “I heard he was unwell?”

She starts a bit at that. “Oh, yes, he… It’s probably just a cold. Nothing unusual.”

I frown at her. I don’t think she knows Percy already told me, but I’m not about to correct her on that. Instead, as she is still blocking my way, I ask: “Can I come in?”

She presses her lips together and watches me for a long moment. Then she forces a smile and steps aside. “Of course.”

Percy’s aunt and uncle aren’t particularly fond of me for a wide variety of reasons, both reasons I can and cannot help. However, as I am a member of the royal family and next in line for the throne, they can’t really act on those feelings. It’s mutual, though; the way they treat Percy, especially these past few years, has never sat quite right with me.

His uncle is at the breakfast table and doesn’t say anything, just watches me as I knock on Percy’s door. “Percy? It’s me. Can I come in?”

I wait for fifteen tense seconds. My hand is already on the doorknob. “Percy? I’m-”

The door opens, and I almost fall over. Two hands find my shoulders and hold me up. When I meet his eyes, it sends a shock through me.

I’m not sure why, but I think part of me expected to find him in his outfit from last night. Or, well, not exactly that, but to at least show _some_ sign last night wasn’t a dream. He’s looking perfectly normal, save from the bags under his eyes and the blush creeping up on his cheeks. I realize he’s still holding me up, and I’ve been staring at him for a while.

“...Are you all right?” he asks.

I blink. “Yes. Of course. Um.” I refind my balance, and he lets me go. “Can we talk?”

While Percy closes the door behind us, I can’t help scrutinizing his room. There’s no sign of any of the things he wore last night. He’s still got his back turned, so I sneak a look inside his wardrobe.

“Are you looking for something?”

I jump. I spin around and slam the wardrobe door behind me - far too loudly. Percy’s watching me, something unreadable in his eyes.

“Um. Yes!” I quickly recover. “I, uhh… lost something… and I thought it might be here. But I guess not.”

“What’d you lose?”

“Just a… ring. Yes. But oh! I just remembered it’s just in my room. Sorry. Silly of me.”

I flash him a smile, dimples employed for fullest effect. He doesn’t seem very convinced.

“...Right. Is that why you came over?” He smiles, a bit shyly. “It’s only ten, you know.”

“I know.” I nod. “And… no. I came to check you out. Check _on_ you!” I put my hands up. God, when did I get so bad at a simple conversation? “Be-because… I heard you were sick. Last night.”

“Oh,” Percy says. He seems oddly relieved at that.

“...Well, are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Feeling better?”

“Oh! Um. Yes. Much better.”

“Okay. Good. That’s good.”

The conversation lulls. Where do I go now? “A real shame you couldn’t be there last night, though.”

He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. “Yeah. I’m really sorry.” He swallows. “How-how was the ball, actually? Was it boring?”

I’ve been looking around the room, still searching for a trace of evidence, but now I turn and pin him with my gaze. “Not at all, actually. I met someone.”

He almost chokes at that. “D-did you?”

This is it. This is my shot. “Yes. We spent our evening together.” I walk toward him, slow and deliberate. He takes one step back, and is immediately blocked by the wall. I don’t stop, though, until I’m less than a foot away from him. I lean against the wall, my arm just beside his shoulder, and he has absolutely nowhere to go.

“He was amazing. Gorgeous. Wonderful. Incredible. Percy, I am completely smitten with this stranger.”

“That’s… nice.” Percy’s voice pitches as he presses himself further to the wall.

I study him. He’s an absolute mess of nerves, red-faced and struggling for breath. If this is his best attempt at lying, it’s rather pathetic.

Why does he refuse to admit it?

_Why did he leave?_

“But.” I turn, and take a few steps away from him. “He never told me his name.” I pivot on my feet, and Percy, who’d been relaxing, tenses up again. “I would do absolutely anything to find him again. Do you understand that, Percy? Absolutely _anything_.”

“I wish I could help,” Percy says, sounding like this conversation is an execution.

I frown. None of this makes any sense. Why would Percy do something like that? Why is he denying it?

Fear creeps up on me. Maybe I did imagine it. It sounds too good to be true - Percy liking me is _exactly_ what I want. Did I drink anything last night? I’m trying to drink less, but my memory is a bit fuzzy. Maybe I did?

I drop my gaze, all my determination seeping away and disappearing between the floorboards. What was I thinking? “Right. Um. Very well.” I can’t even remember the last thing Percy said. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

He seems a bit surprised at the change in topic - surprised and relieved. He runs a hand through his hair, pulling it to one side over his shoulder. “Thanks. I’m really sorry I couldn’t make it.”

That’s when I spot them. No less than three dark marks in his neck that I _very_ distinctly remember leaving there.

My mouth falls open. _It wasn’t a dream._ It was real, and it was _him_.

Percy notices me staring, and his hand goes up to his neck, rubbing it with an awkward smile. “Have I… got something on me?”

“...No,” I struggle. I can barely hold back the smile. “Nothing. I just… got an idea.”

He grins at me. “That usually doesn’t end well.”

“Oh, shut up. It’s a brilliant idea.” I right myself. “You see, I am desperate to find this stranger again. But I know nothing about him. So obviously, there’s only one solution to this problem.” I pause for maximum effect. “I will organize a new ball. _Tonight_. And hope he will be there.”

Percy’s eyes widen. He’s grasping for words for a moment. “Do you… Are you… Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“It’s just…” He shrugs, pointedly not meeting my eyes. “That’s so much trouble. For someone you met once?”

“This isn’t just anyone, Percy,” I insist, and I can’t help smiling broadly. “This is the love of my life we’re talking about.”

Percy goes the fiercest shade of red I’ve ever seen him. I decide to stop tormenting him for now. There’ll be plenty of time for that tonight. 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a ball to prepare.” I head for the door. With my hand hovering over the knob, I waver. “Will you… be able to play in the orchestra tonight?”

Percy hesitates for a long time. “...Actually,” he says then. “I’m still not feeling entirely recovered. I think it’s wisest if I stay in tonight as well.”

It takes everything I have in me not to fling my arms around him for that. “Perfect! I mean- Uhh. I mean- it’s good that you’re staying inside. That you’re- that you’re taking care of yourself. Yes. You’ll get better soon, I’m sure of it.” And just because I can’t resist, I quickly run over, press a kiss on his cheek, and leave before he has the chance to react. “Bye! See you toni- tomorrow. See you tomorrow!”

I practically dance back to the castle.

Mother and Felicity both stare at me when I sit down with them for lunch, humming and far more awake than I’d usually be at this hour. “Good morning, Mother, Felicity.” I nod at them as I pull a basket of bread closer.

Felicity squints at me for a long time. “So how much ransom are you asking for my brother?” she eventually asks. “Because we’re not paying it.”

“Always a delight to see you, Felicity.” I smile at her. She watches me in confusion and dismay for a long time. Then she returns to her plate with a scoff.

“Good morning, Monty,” Mother says. At least she seems happy I’m in a good mood. Some disappointment finds its way into her expression, though. “I haven’t seen you an awful lot last night.”

I freeze. Right. I was supposed to search for a bride. I recover. “Ah, you know.” I wave the comment away. “They were all lovely ladies. But it’s rather difficult to really get to _know_ someone at a ball, you know what I’m saying?” This is my opening. “Or rather, at just _one_ ball.”

“Well,” Mother says, “would you like to invite some of them over again? Quite a few families are still staying at the castle. We could ask them to join us for tea.”

“Actually.” I sit up. “I was thinking something bigger. I’m… still keeping my options open, and, well, the ballroom is still decorated, isn’t it?”

They both frown at me, Felicity most spectacularly. “Please don’t suggest what I think you’re about to suggest,” she says, voice flat with dread.

“A second ball. _Masked_ , as well,” I quickly add. “Tonight.”

Felicity rolls her eyes. Mother looks at me for a long time. Then she addresses the guards present. “Could you give us a moment?”

Well. That doesn’t sound good.

The door closes behind them, and Mother instantly slumps a bit. She’s quite good at that, actually. Keeping composure was her main skill back when Father was still alive. Now, she still very good at acting the part - the only difference is that she now does actually relax once in a while.

“Henry,” she says. Her addressing me by my actual name is also not a very good sign. She ends her sentence there, as if the ridiculousness of this idea is made obvious enough by stating the fact that it’s coming from me.

“You said it yourself - quite a few of the guests are staying overnight!” I’ve stood up. I really, _really_ need this. “And - think about it. This is a big decision. It’ll determine the future of our kingdom. Isn’t that worth the effort?”

I’m pleading, and it’s not a good look for me, but if it must be done, then it must be done.

“Do you think I can just magically make a new banquet appear?” Mother says. “Or have the ballroom cleaned? Or make the orchestra learn a whole new concert in a few hours?”

“Just let them play the same thing from last night! And - and start the ball at eight. That buys everyone extra time, and you won’t have to serve dinner.”

“Monty. Please, be reasonable.” She bites her lip. I can see she wants to cave in, but it’s simply not the responsible thing to do as Queen. Her expression turns grim, setting into all the wrinkles she’s gotten since Father died. “We look ridiculous enough in their eyes as it is.”

I hesitate.

Since Father’s passing, the other kingdoms don’t quite... take us as seriously anymore. They don’t believe a widowed Queen who refuses to take on a new husband has the ability to be a proper ruler. Which leaves everyone looking at… me, I suppose. The kingdom is struggling, that’s no secret - the past few harvests have yielded barely enough to survive the winters. We’ve never had to apprehend as many attempts on our lives as the past two years, from friend and foe alike - but the people themselves aren’t happy, either, and we will have to answer for that sooner rather than later.

We’re a house of cards ready to collapse, rotting from the inside out. Easy prey for our neighboring monarchies, looking to expand their kingdoms.

But seems to me that can all be addressed tomorrow, at earliest. If I’m to sacrifice my own happiness for the kingdom’s sake, I think I deserve one more night just for me.

“I swear to you, by the time that ball is done, I’ll have found a Princess to marry. The richest of them all. Please, Mom.” I put up my most winning pitiful expression. “I won’t let you down. Just let me have this one last thing.”

She instantly mellows. I barely ever call her Mom - too many unresolved issues between us. I save it up for special occasions and while it feels a bit wrong for something like this… I’m determined now.

“ _Please_ don’t tell me you’re actually going to indulge him,” Felicity says, tone implying she very much knows so and hates it.

“ _One_ more ball,” Mother says. “Smaller and shorter than last night. And then you’ll settle down and do what’s right for the kingdom.”

I nod, ignoring the panic boiling up inside of me. It’s something I’ll deal with after tonight. “I promise. Thank you.”

It’s already past nine and still no sign of him.

I’ve even had to spend time actually talking to our lady guests - which I suppose is just my end of the agreement, but I can’t focus on a conversation. I keep looking over shoulders, across the room, through the windows, all the while my head racing with questions I’ve been trying to avoid.

The wait, unfortunately, gives me a lot of time to think.

If my brain insists on occupation, I try to distract it with the lovely memories from the night previous. How amazing he looked, how we danced, how we flirted, how we kissed. It makes my head spin, to be honest.

But none of it takes away the fact that he _left_.

It’s the one thing I’ve been trying to avoid all day. I’ve been comforting myself with the memories of how breathtaking last night was and how wonderful this one is going to be, preoccupying myself with organizing the next ball, but now I’m here waiting… it creeps up on me.

Percy came to find me at the ball last night. We made out and had a spectacular time.

Until he left.

_Why did he leave?_

_...Why did he hide his face in the first place?_

It could’ve been a joke. The flirting - we’ve done that before. And a masked ball in my honor would’ve been perfect occasion to make fun of me. But it went beyond that. Far, far beyond. It would’ve made sense if he actually loved me. But then, why didn’t he just say so? Why didn’t he tell me it was him?

Why would he want to kiss me without me knowing it’s him?

A deep, dark part of me, a whispering voice in my head I’ve been trying to listen less to, has a theory. _He doesn’t love you (how could he?). He just wanted what everybody else wants from you._

The thought chills me to the bone. It’s painful, formulating it, but really, it’s been there all along. From the moment we first kissed.

Percy wouldn’t. He’s better than that. He might not love me _like that_ , but he does love me, in a way. He cares for me. He wouldn’t-

_Men who wear masks rarely do so to commit acts they’re proud of._

I swallow.

What am I expecting of tonight? Even if he’ll show up, what will I do? Pretend I don’t know, pretend this isn’t somehow everything I’ve ever wanted and complete torture at the same time? Tricking my heart into believing it’s getting what it wants? Smoke and mirrors to mellow the heartache?

Maybe in doing this, I’m just hurting myself more.

But I am weak and pathetic and even if I can’t have him, _properly_ have him, I’ll at least allow myself this.

“Your Highness?”

I blink. I realize I’m actually talking to a woman (Duchess? Princess? Who knows) and I seemingly haven’t responded in a while. “...What?”

She frowns. She’s quite pretty, actually, but I can’t bring myself to care. “Are you all right?”

“I’m…” I grasp the air, as if that will somehow bring me the words I’m searching for. “I’m… a bit light-headed. I’m going to get some air.”

It isn’t even a lie.

The lady curtsies and leaves. I want to head straight for the balcony, but Mother’s voice stops me. She sounds tired. “Please, Henry, do not leave again.”

“It’s just for a moment,” I say. I honestly feel like I might pass out. I do not want to think about it, about any of it. About finding a woman to marry or my royal responsibilities or how Percy does or does not feel about me - I can’t stand to ponder it for another moment. _I need a drink._ The thought catches me off guard, and that makes me feel even worse.

“If you _run off_ after I’ve organized this ball just for you-” she warns me, but I cut her off.

“I’ll be right back, okay? Promise. I just need to go see if - I’m - I’m looking for someone.”

She looks surprised. “...You already found someone?”

“Yes.” That’s exactly the excuse I need. “Yes, and I haven’t seen hi- _her_ yet so I should really-”

“Who is it?” Felicity, damn her, mingles herself with the conversation. She sounds smug. “One of the stable boys?”

I send her a murderous glare. “Jealous, Felicity?”

“ _Please_.”

“Monty,” Mother interrupts. “If you’ve already got a lady in mind, just introduce her to us.”

“I, uh.” I’m really scrambling now. I can’t even think straight. “I can’t- I mean, I will, if you’d let me go find her.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “What’s her name, then?”

“It’s, um.” This is not the worst lie I’ve ever pulled together, but it’s certainly a contender. “She… Her name is…”

I don’t continue (not that I’ve got anything to continue with). Something’s caught my eye - a silhouette on the balcony, passing by in front of the windows. I need to go, _now_ , before I fall apart here. “There!” I suddenly shout, pointing to the other side of the ballroom. Mother and Felicity both turn to look.

I run in the opposite direction.

I’m out of breath when I arrive at the balcony. I round the corner, worried they’ll follow me, but when I’ve spent a few minutes leaning on the banister to catch my breath, no one’s come after me yet, so I think I’m safe.

“I thought you’d never come out,” a familiar voice behind me says, smile in his tone.

I turn and there he finally is. He’s mostly hidden by the shadows but I’d know him anywhere, mask or no mask, in the daylight or in the darkest night - I’d always know him.

“Where have you been?” I say through gritted teeth, as I pace toward him.

“In your heart and in your dreams, darling,” is all he can say before I smother him with a kiss.

The warmth and the love I’m greeted with almost knock me off balance. It’s a lot - like yesterday, it’s somehow exactly what I thought kissing Percy would feel like, and _so much better_ at the same time. It makes me feel vulnerable and bare but _safe_ , and it’s such a lovely mix of familiarity and novelty and it crashes in all at once, falling on me like a rainstorm, pushing aside all the doubt and anxiety that’s been making me sick all day and leaving me as nothing but how much I love him. It’s so much that I almost start to cry.

Our kiss slows down. He wraps his arms around me, and I want to stay here forever. I pull back, staying in close enough that we’re sharing our breath. We’re both panting a little. He hums with a smile, and I can’t help but smiling as well. He’s still got his arms around me and I let myself relax in his hold, resting my head against his shoulder, eyes closed. A gust of wind makes me shiver. He pulls me closer.

“I missed you,” I whisper. It’s so quiet I’m not even sure he heard me.

“It’s barely been twenty-four hours,” he replies, and I huff. Then he adds, softer: “But I missed you too.”

Part of me wants to just enjoy what I have. Even if it isn’t real, I want to make myself believe for one more night. The Monty of two years ago, who was still living in fear of his father, drunk every day and caring about nothing but himself, would’ve seized this opportunity with both hands and never questioned it. But that’s a while ago, and I’m trying to be better. I want to be better. And while everything inside me wants to stay here, ignorant and happy, just for one night… I know it’s not right.

“Why’d you leave?”

I’ve been repeating the question in my head for so long that I can’t stand it anymore. He tenses up, and I almost regret it. But even if it means risking what could be the last carefree night of my life - this is important. This is Percy and I and how we might feel about each other. And even if Percy doesn’t feel the same - I’ll accept that. I… will never be quite able to move on, but I’ll at least have a sense of closure.

I hadn’t expected for his reply to be a simple, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry about what?”

He sounds heartbroken. “For all of it. That I left. That I came in the first place. And now I’m here again.” He chuckles, a self-depreciating sound. “You should leave. You deserve better than this.”

 _Do I?_ I think, quite without meaning to. I lift my head and look him in the eye. “Please, just…” I run a hand through my hair. The ribbons of my mask untangle. It’s pointless, anyway, so I take it off. “Please just explain. I’m trying to understand.”

“I can’t,” he whispers. “I shouldn’t have come back. I…” He tries to pull away, but I tighten my hold, keeping him right here in my arms.

“Please,” I say. “Stay.”

“This is wrong,” he says. “I… this mask, it... “ He bites his lip. “If you knew who I was, you’d hate me for this.”

I frown. I move back to look him in the eye, trying to see if his expression holds any clue to what he just meant. “Why would I do that?”

He shrugs, tilting his head up at the sky with a painful smile. “It’s hard to explain. But trust me, you would.”

“But I don’t.”

It takes him a while to catch onto what I’ve said. He tips his head, brow creasing. “...What?”

“I don’t,” I repeat.

“...Yes. Because you don’t know. But if you knew-”

“I do know.”

He tenses up in my hold, eyes widening behind the mask. “...You… what?”

“I know who you are.” I swallow. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I feel like I’m ruining everything, but I need him to understand I could never hate him, no matter what. When he doesn’t reply, just looks ready to run, I raise my hand and brush a curl out of his face. Then I say, my voice near reverence, “Percy.”

His breath catches. I can feel he wants to back away, but I won’t let him. We are going to talk about this, right here and right now. He looks horrified, eyes darting all over the place, but I refuse to stop looking at him. How could I? He’s the love of my life, and he’s beyond beautiful. He’s looking scared and I want to reassure him.

Then, a new voice cuts through the night. “Henry.”

We both start. We exchange a panicked look, and then I push him into an alcove and dart out to meet the voice, just to make sure they won’t accidentally find him. Around the corner, Mother’s looking around, and her face sets when she sees me. She’s accompanied by a man in his forties, with a stocky build and fancily dressed, and an absolutely stunning young lady in a green dress.

“Here,” I say, and they turn. Both the man and the lady look me up and down with something odd in their expression. I suddenly realize my kiss with Percy left me in not quite the state one would expect a Prince to be in at his own party, and I do a feeble attempt to make myself look decent. I clear my throat. “Did you need me, Mother?”

“Yes,” she says. She’s angry. As well as she can hide it, I recognize the way she purses her lips and narrows her eyes ever so slightly. “I’d like to introduce you to Princess Jeanne of Dulcemia. Your Highness, this is my son, Prince Henry.”

Jeanne curtsies and gives me a lovely smile. “Delighted.”

Right now, I’d very much like to turn my back on them all and run away to go find Percy, but I’m getting a little bit scared from what’s hidden behind my mother’s serene smile, so I pull myself together. I take Jeanne’s hand and kiss the back of it. “Likewise.”

“The Regent of Dulcemia,” Mother nods at the man accompanying them, “and I have been talking. We think both our kingdoms would strongly benefit from a union.”

I look between them. “Oh. That’s great!” I’m so glad our kingdom’s troubles could be solved in a way that doesn’t involve my marriage. Then I realize that is exactly what she means. “I mean- wh...what?”

“The Princess has agreed,” Mother says, looking away, “and so have I. You will be wed in three days.”

The world stops spinning. It takes everything in me not to let my jaw drop to the floor in front of these people (though I’m afraid neither of them is missing my reaction). I’m gaping at my mother, waiting for her to admit it’s all been a joke, but she does not. “I… I see,” I manage.

I hear a sound behind me. Running footsteps and the ruffling of clothes, distancing themselves. _Percy._ I quickly turn, wanting to dash after him, but Mother takes my arm with a surprisingly firm grip. She smiles at us. “Shall we head back inside to make the announcement?”


	3. The Wedding

**Monty**

I don’t see much of Percy the following days. Or rather - nothing at all. The few times I manage to sneak out and make it to his front door, his guardians refuse to let me in under the guise that Percy’s sick. That is, when I actually get a moment to myself. Who knew that being wed in three days took up so much of one’s time? I’m made to sign invitations, decide on decorations and banquets, talk to nobility alongside my fiancée - my  _ fiancée _ , dear God, I can’t believe this is happening - and when I’m doing none of that, I’m ushered to my room to make sure I sleep enough.

I don’t. I barely sleep. I keep thinking about Percy. About the brief time we had together at the second ball. How he looked when I told him I knew. How he ran off when the announcement of my wedding was made.

In spite of being engaged to her, I haven’t actually spoken to Jeanne a lot. All of our conversations have been supervised - by either Mother or some other wealthy company, and they’ve either been mutual silence or acted adoration. Jeanne’s a good actress, I have to admit, and alongside my theatrical skills, I don’t think anyone’s unconvinced of how joyful our union tomorrow will be. Two lovely young people, rich and sort-of-rich (that’s me), uniting their kingdoms for future prosperity. Everyone benefits.

Everyone except me.

I’m leaning out of a window, the cool evening breeze mussing my hair and somewhat helping with the waves of nausea rolling through me. I’m in one of the towers, looking down at the wind stirring up the water in the moat. I’ve run away - I’ve been subtle about it, I think only Mother realized what was really going on. But I couldn’t stay there. I couldn’t pretend for another second.

The nausea spikes, and I brace myself, but nothing comes.  _ Deep breaths. _ I’m suddenly assaulted by a memory of another time like this. I’d just had a lovely talk with my father and I’d been drinking to dull the pain, and then I’d been drinking to forget, and then I’d just kept on drinking because I didn’t know what else there was to do. Percy had been there for me. Percy had always been there for me. He’s had my back through every horrible thing I’ve ever done, he’s suffered because of me so much but he’s always stayed my friend. I’ve hurt him so many times.

I didn’t even realize I was doing it in the beginning. When it hit me, my first instinct was to hate myself, which I did, for a while. Then I figured that wasn’t doing anyone much good, so I started trying to make it up to him. Trying to be better for him. And I thought I was doing all right. I don’t deserve him; I’ll never deserve him. But I’ve been trying.

And now he’s hurt again.

I hear footsteps behind me, heels clacking against the stone, fabric rustling. It stops a few feet away from me. I know who it is. I’m not in the mood to talk to her.

“Monty,” Mother says, pain in her voice. She hesitates. “Are you…?”

She stops there with a sharp breath, realizing what a stupid question it is, but my temper already flares. I turn - too fast, my head spins for a moment - and snap at her: “Of course I’m not  _ all right _ . Nothing about this is all right. So don’t pretend you care.”

My lashing out instantly takes its toll, and I turn back to the window, clutching the frame with shaking hands. God, I feel awful.

“I’m sorry,” she says, voice thin. I think she might start to cry, and that’s even worse.

_ Breathe in. Breathe out. _ It’s Percy’s voice in my head. Things like these always are. The voice that reminds me of everything terrible about me is my father’s. But kind words? Gentle advice? Patient words that give me another chance? That’s Percy’s.

“No,” I say. My voice is trembling, but I try to speak steady. “I’m sorry I lashed out. This is the right thing to do. It’s my responsibility.”

She sighs, the slightest of sounds. “I wish you didn’t have to.”

I chuckle humorlessly. “Me neither. But what choice do we have?”

The silence stretches out between us. Outside, the wind rustles the leaves. Laughter from the tavern rises up from the village. A horse whinnies.

“Did you…” Hesitation. “...actually find someone at the ball?”

I close my eyes. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

“What was her… what was his name?”

“It was Percy.”

She falters. “Oh,” is all she says.

The day of the wedding starts early and doesn’t stop for a second. I’ve been welcoming guests, directing people all over, and stuffed into my wedding attire. I am now being ushered into the room where I’ll be waiting to be called to the aisle.

It’s all going so fast. I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this. The thought alone makes me want to run away and never look back. Maybe grab Percy by the hand halfway and drag him along so I won’t have to run alone. But I have to do this; for my family, for my people. To prove my father wrong when he used to say I’m worthless and a disgrace and I’d never amount to anything, perhaps. The thought makes me feel a little bit better. I know it’s the right thing to do. After weighing everyone down for so long, it’s about time I started carrying my burdens.

Even if that burden is to never be with the person I love most.

I’ve been so caught up in my own head, in trying to calm myself down and to convince myself not to bolt, that I don’t even notice the silhouette in front of the window right away. He’s got his back to me and is looking out of the window, but I know he’s been waiting for me. My heart leaps.

“Percy.”

He shifts, ever so slightly. I approach him slowly, giving him the chance to back away if he wants to, but he doesn’t. I stop three feet behind him. He’s wearing his attire from the balls, and the light from the window is making all the golden detailing shine like the sun. He turns toward me, and with a shock I realize that he’s crying. He forces a watery smile. “You look nice.”

I cross the final distance between us and throw my arms around him.

He chokes on a sob, then rests his head against my shoulder - it’s an awkward position, as he’s far too tall for it, but I don’t comment. I just hold him, rubbing circles in his shoulders, and bite back my own tears.

When he calms down a little, he chuckles, even though it sounds more like a sob. “Sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

“I’m glad you came.” I gently push him back so I can look at him. I wipe some tears of his cheeks. “I’m sorry, too. About everything.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” he says, taking a shaky breath. “I…” He lets out a breathy laugh, mostly out of misery, and it hurts to see him like this. “I’m not even sure what I started all of this for.” He pauses, biting his lip. His gaze flits from mine. Then he asks, quietly, “When did you figure out it was me?”

I scoff with a smile. “The first moment I saw you?”

He freezes, and under my hand still lingering on his face, he goes fantastically red. “Please say you’re joking.”

“I’m afraid not, darling.”

“Oh God.” He pulls himself away far enough to bury his face in his hands. I laugh and start prying away those hands. He looks at me shyly.

“Did you seriously think I wouldn’t recognize my best friend just because he was looking particularly handsome?” I ask gently.

He’s still flustered, but he smiles.

I raise my hands to the side of his face, slowly, so he can tell what I’m doing. I gently tug at the ribbons of his mask, until they give in and it falls away, and the mask lands in my hands. I look up. My best friend’s face is looking down at me, a fond smile on his lips. His crown is gone. My eyes trail down to his clothes and I jump back.

He’s back in his plain clothes, not a trace of his ball attire. I’m gaping, which might be a bit excessive, but I’ve just witnessed something that  _ can’t _ be explained. Percy rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Some lady gave me a magical mask,” he says, as if that explains everything.

I blink at him a few times, trying to gather my wits. I look at the mask in my hand, looking as innocent as an inanimate object can look. I shake my head with a smile. “A magical mask,” I say. “While we’re at it.”

He laughs. I put down the mask on a side table.

“I think I do prefer you like this, though,” I say, carefully outstretching a hand. “Really, it’s all the same to me, except that that mask hides a considerable part of your freckles, and I’m rather fond of them.”

His blush, that had just started to fade, comes back full force. “Shut up,” he says, batting me away and laughing.

“I mean it!” I protest.

We sober up at the same time. I’ve still got one hand cupping his face, and he leans into it, eyes closing. It sends a shiver through me.

“Why’d you do it? Put on that mask?”

He smiles, eyes still closed. “I was rather under the impression it was a masked ball.”

I snort. “Don’t get smart with me.”

He sighs, then threads his own fingers with my hand still resting on his cheek, pulling it to his chest and wrapping his other hand around it, too. “Once upon a time,” he starts, “there was a man - ordinary as anything - who... fell in love with a Prince. While the pair were friends, the man was convinced the Prince could never love him for who he was. But when the Prince turned eighteen, a masked ball was held in his honor. So the man took a chance.”

I forget how to breathe. He’s still got his eyes closed so he can’t see how I’m staring at him, face heating up, a smile I can’t push down appearing. I feel so light I think I could float away. But he’s anchoring me, my hand to his heartbeat, a nervous crease settling into his brow.

“I was so scared of ruining our friendship,” he says. “And afterwards, I felt so embarrassed-”

“You love me?” I ask breathlessly.

He blinks, eyes opening and landing on me. He’s red and looks like he wants to pull away, gaze darting away and coming to rest a bit beside me. He takes a deep breath. “I do. I always have, Monty. More than anything, I love you.”

I can’t believe it. I’ve suspected, hoped,  _ dared to dream _ he could feel to at least some degree the same way about me as I feel about him, ever since the first ball. But I’ve been too scared to even think it, to formulate it in my head, for fear it might sound so ridiculous it could only be untrue. But I’ve hoped. I’ve always hoped. For weeks and months and years and maybe even my entire life. I can’t imagine a version of myself that doesn’t love Percy and that wouldn’t be over the moon for Percy to love him back. But Percy does.

He does.

Percy’s still avoiding eye contact. “But I understand if you don’t feel the same. It doesn’t even matter, now. I really don’t know why I’m-”

I take his face in my hands and make him look at me. “I love you too,” I say softly.

Now it’s his turn to gape. Impossibly, he goes even redder, but he’s having difficulty suppressing a smile too. “You do?”

“Of course I do!” I almost yell. I’m so happy I don’t know what to do with myself. “I just thought you could never love me back.”

“Seriously?” he asks, and I nod. “But it was so obvious! If you knew it was me at the ball, why else did you think I’d be there?”

I shrug, letting myself fall forward to rest my head against his shoulder. His arms wrap around me. “I thought… maybe you just wanted a flirt. Maybe you didn’t want me to know because you didn’t want anything serious, maybe you just wanted a hook-up because of my looks and my status and- Well. That’s what everyone else wants, anyway. I know you wouldn’t do something like that,” I stop him before he can start to protest. “But that was the only reason my awful brain could come up with.” I smile. “Glad to be wrong.”

“I’m so sorry,” Percy says, hugging me tighter. “I really didn’t mean to make you feel-”

“It’s not your fault,” I insist. “We really both should’ve just… talked about it.”

He chuckles, and I can feel the sound in his chest. One of his hands comes to tilt up my chin, making me look him in the eye. “Monty,” he starts. “I love you. Yes, I think you’re gorgeous because you  _ are _ , but there’s  _ so much more to you than that. _ You are incredible and brave and funny and kind-” When I snort at that, he gives me a look. “-and resilient and tough and....  _ amazing _ . You’re just amazing. You’ve come from so far, been through so much and come out stronger. You’re fun and as much as I love getting into trouble with you, you are taking responsibility now and I know one day you’ll be the King this kingdom deserves. You never cease to amaze me. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had and I love you so much, love  _ you _ so much, all of you, and there’s nothing I want more than to spend the rest of my life with you.”

I’m crying. The tears are streaming down my face but I’m smiling, too, and I love him so much my heart is straining in my chest. He kisses my cheeks.

“I don’t deserve you,” I say hoarsely. “A few years ago, I was awful to you. Awful in general, but mostly to the people who tried to help me. And that was you. That’s always been you.”

He pulls me to him with one arm around me and his hand on the back of my head. “Yes, you’ve been awful,” he says, both humor and tears in his voice. “And yes, to me. But - and I’m not sure you remember this, because you were drunk - one night, about two months after your father died, you told me the same thing. You said I should just leave because you were never going to change, because you’d never be anything else than a burden and a disgrace.”

I bite my lip. I do remember this night. It was winter, and the kingdom was a complete mess. Mother refused to leave her rooms, Felicity was trying to reason with the royal guard not to rise against us - she was thirteen - and I was doing what I was best at: getting drunk and hiding from my problems. Percy found me in my room, so wasted I could barely speak, genuinely wishing I was dead. He was there for me and I snapped at him. I told him those exact things. I genuinely wanted him to leave because I didn’t want to hurt anyone any more than I already had.

But he refused.

“And I promised you you could change. I promised you that one day you’d look back and you’d be better and so glad you stuck around, and that day I’d been able to tell you that I told you so.” He smiles, though he’s still crying as well. “This is me telling you that I told you so.”

I laugh, an ugly noise choked my tears. I don’t know what to say.

“So,” Percy continues, “it’s true that things haven’t always been easy. They will continue to not be easy. But I think we’re both tough and stupid enough to pull through. So, Monty, and I swear to you this is the truest thing I’ll ever say: I love you more than anything, and if given half the chance I will spend the rest of my life trying to give you the happiness you deserve. Because you do. You really do.”

Right now, I really couldn’t feel much happier just to stand there, in his arms, sobbing like a fool. I wipe at my nose, trying to pull myself together. “Ah, see what you’ve done,” I say, voice croaking. “You’ve made me cry. What are the people going to think when I walk down the aisle?”

In response, he just hugs me tighter.

We stay like that for a while, clinging to each other like lifelines, crying from happiness, and maybe a bit from the dawning realization that this is the end of the line for  _ us _ . We both got what we wanted - for the other to love us back, fully, whole-heartedly, and forever.

And that’s all we’ll ever get. In just a few minutes, I walk through that door and promise the life I want to spend with him to someone else.

It’s strange. Just a few years ago, I was running from what I was supposed to do in pursuit of things I thought would make me happy, or at least, happier. It didn’t work - I remained as empty inside as I ever had. But here I am, willingly walking away from everything I’ve ever wanted to do what I know to be right. And while it aches, I’m strangely at peace with it.

We’re both thinking about it. It doesn’t need to be said. We both know we’d spend our lives with the other if it were a possibility. But it isn’t. And we’re going to accept that.

We’re shooting stars, the pair of us. Shining as our paths lie parallel for one bright night, but never crossing, then doomed to forever go our own ways.

“I don’t want to marry you.”

Percy and I jump apart. It’s a new voice that’s spoken, a woman’s, while I thought we were here alone. I turn at the doorway, still clutching Percy’s hands, and there stands Jeanne. She’s wearing her wedding gown and she looks beyond stunning. Her eyes, unreadable, dart between the two of us. Her maid trails behind her.

My veins turn to ice. “Jeanne,” I say, finally getting the good sense to pull my hand back. I proceed to do world’s worst imitation of a casual tone. “My lady. I-I didn’t see you there. How-how long have you been…?”

“I heard enough,” she says. She walks toward us, slowly, and I want to run. “I was just coming to see what was taking you so long, when I heard you two confessing your love to each other.”

Time stops. I exchange a quick glance with Percy, who’s looking at least as panicked as I’m feeling.  _ No, no, no. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. _ I’m lightheaded with fear. “We weren’t,” I choke out. I offer Percy an internal apology, because my love for him is the last thing I want to deny, especially knowing it’s reciprocated, but the future of the kingdom depends on it. “It was just… a joke. Percy and I are very good friends, we say stuff like that sometimes. It doesn’t mean anything.”

She’s almost right in front of me. Jeanne’s about my height, but she’s wearing heels, so I have to look up at her. “It sounded pretty sincere to me.”

“It wasn’t,” Percy, thankfully, cuts in. “I swear. It- We were just- It was-”

Jeanne puts up her hand, and we both cease our arguments. “Don’t bother,” she says.

_ I messed up, I messed up, I messed up and the kingdom is going to pay for it- _

She stops right in front of me. “I don’t want to marry you,” she says. Then, a smile curls her lips, “because I’m in love with someone else, too.”

I stop. I’m staring at her, completely dumbfounded. “...What?”

“But marriage is in our kingdoms’ best interest,” Jeanne continues. “So I think we should carry through with it. And, well, if you’re okay with it…” She sounds a bit nervous new. “...we could be husband and wife in the official way only?”

I’m barely recovered from the scare from a minute ago. “What do you mean?”

“I mean - rule our kingdoms together. Appear in public together. Convince everyone we really are a couple. But in private we could still…” She looks behind her with a small smile, gaze meeting her maid’s, and she smiles too. “...be with the people we love.”

And it all clicks in my head.

**Percy**

The hall really is stuffed to the brim. Rows and rows of nobles and royals and lords and ladies and knights and - everyone, really. They’d all been murmuring uneasily when Monty came rushing in, smiling in response to his mother’s worried glance and assuring the guests that the wedding was finally commencing. They’d all remained unsettled until the orchestra started playing - without me, once again, I really have something waiting for me when I get back - and the bride walked down the aisle.

She’s wearing a stunning white dress, decorated with gold, her veil carried by bridesmaids and a bouquet of white and red roses in her hands. Standing next to Monty in his deep red and gold attire, both of them covered in jewelry, gold and precious stones, both of them lovely, they really strike quite the picture. No one can take their eyes off them. I can’t help but feeling sort of lucky that will never have to be me. I don’t need a ceremony, clothes worth half the village and everyone looking at me. I have Monty’s heart, and that’s so much more than enough.

“They look amazing,” I say quietly.

“Doesn’t she?” Esmee - Jeanne’s maid and, apparently, lover - sighs beside me. Then she realizes what I said. “Oh. Sorry. Yes, they really do.”

I can’t blame her - I’m having a hard time taking my eyes off Monty, too. We’re both watching from the sidelines, close to the front of the room. They’re facing each other, Jeanne’s back to us, as the priest starts talking. Over her shoulder, Monty catches me looking, and he winks with a wicked grin.

I nearly swoon.

“I never thought I’d be happy to see Monty get married to someone else,” I say.

Esmee nods. “I’m really happy, though. Jeanne and I have been dreading this for so long. We really didn’t think this could ever end well, for either of us, but here we are.” She smiles, lost in thought.

From somewhere on the second row, someone looks back. I recognize her as the lady that gave me the mask. She catches my eye, and when she smiles, somehow, I know she understands.

Vows and rings are exchanged, and they’re crowned King and Queen of Dulcemia. I hadn’t even realized that after today Monty would technically be a King, but as Jeanne’s parents are both dead and a regent has been ruling in her place until she’d turn eighteen and find a husband, it makes sense. Jeanne and Monty kiss, brief and chaste, and then the hall erupts in applause. Esmee and I are applauding too. Everything about today is so wonderful and strange and unexpected and amazing. I feel light as a feather. Even as he accepts congratulations, Monty keeps finding my eyes and smiling.

“Maybe fairy tale endings do exist,” Esmee says, “in the most unorthodox of ways.”

The celebrations last the remainder of the day. I linger nearby until I get tired. When I tell Monty, he suggests Esmee and I go wait in the room reserved for the newlyweds and promises that he and Jeanne will meet us there shortly.

‘Shortly’ ends up lasting several more hours. In the meanwhile, Esmee tells me lengthy stories about how she and Jeanne met and how often their escapades got them in trouble. She also asks a lot of questions about Monty and I, and even though I act a bit reserved at first, I realize that I really like her. By the time Monty and Jeanne close the door behind them with a sigh, Esmee and I are still laughing together.

“I’m exhausted,” Monty says, doing a dramatic collapse against the door. “I’m never eating again in my life. What are you two laughing about?”

“Percy was just telling me about the moat incident,” Esmee says.

Monty gasps. “Percy! I thought that was between us!”

“Should’ve showed up sooner,” I reply, getting up. “May I congratulate the happy couple?”

Jeanne rolls her eyes with a smile and Monty scoffs.

“Well,” Jeanne says, already removing her earrings. “I’m getting out of this dress right now. Esmee, a hand?”

Esmee grins and jumps to her feet. She opens the door leading to the adjoining room and gestures inside in invitation. “Your suite awaits, my lady.”

Jeanne’s biting down a smile, a fond twinkle in her eye. She still turns to Monty and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, dear.”

“Goodnight, darling,” Monty replies, and we watch the ladies disappear to the next room. The door latches into the lock behind them.

Monty deflates a little further against the wall, smiling sheepishly. “Well. That was a day.”

“A good day, though.”

“You didn’t have to be the center of attention. I need some peace and quiet for at least a week.”

I smirk. “Who are you and what have you done to my Monty?”

Monty pushes himself away from the wall with a small smile, crossing the room to put his arms around me, and God, I didn’t even know how much I missed getting to hold him, even for a few hours. I realize that my future will likely hold many more opportunities to be close to him, and my heart swells.

We stay like that for a while, doing nothing but cherishing the other’s presence. Cool night air strays inside, and I’m reminded of an embrace just like this, barely a week ago. Through the window, I see two shooting stars crossing the sky.

“I’m happy,” Monty says, resting his forehead in the crook of my neck. “Though I’d much rather married you today, darling.”

I huff, putting a hand in his hair. “We didn’t even properly talk about how we felt until today.”

He looks up, eyes tired but fond, with a sweet smile on his face. “So?”

“So, shouldn’t we do  _ this _ for a bit longer?” There isn’t much conviction behind the words. “Before making anything official?” 

“We can’t make anything official anyway, so I say, to hell with it.”

I still want to continue joking about it, but in that moment, Monty gently pushes himself away and, holding my gaze all the while, sinks down on one knee.

My heart flutters.

“Percy,” he says, his voice near a whisper, “We’ve known each other our entire lives. And even though I haven’t always been the best at showing it, I love you. You are the great love of my life. I’d much rather we could be together openly, that I could tell the whole world that I love you, because you deserve to be loved without pretenses. Not under the cover of a lonely night sky, but in warm sunlight.”

“I’m rather fond of the night sky, though,” I say, voice laced with tears. I can’t stop smiling.

Monty looks up, peeved I’ve interrupted him. Then he continues, “But while I can’t give you that, while I can’t love you openly, I can promise I will love you whole-heartedly and with everything I have. I owe you such an incredible debt and even if I could do everything in my power to make you happy for the rest of our lives, it still wouldn’t be repaid. But I want to try. Because I…” his voice cracks, “...because I love you so much. You are magnificent and gorgeous and brilliant and kind and good and I just… I love you, Percy. I love you so damn much. So…” He smiles widely. “Would you do me the great honor of becoming my unofficial husband?”

I can’t reply. My throat is so closed up with joy, tears flowing down my cheeks, and I can barely breathe around how much I love this man. When I finally manage to force out words, it’s, “You didn’t even bring me a ring.”

He scoffs in surprise, then gives me a tilted-head grin. “Well, I didn’t exactly wake up this morning and think,  _ I’m going to sort-of propose to Percy today _ , so my eternal love and affection will have to do, I’m afraid.”

I laugh and pull him to his feet. His smile slowly sinks away, making room for uncertainty. But he doesn’t ask - he already did - so he just waits as I raise a hand to brush a lock out of his face, trailing down until I’m cupping his cheek. “You really don’t owe me anything, though,” I say gently. He’s had tears welling up in his eyes ever since he went down on one knee, but now he screws his face up as if he might actually cry. “I promise,” I say. “You loving me is enough. It’s so much more than enough.”

He smiles, the tear running down his left cheek getting caught in his dimple before he wipes it away. “So, what do you say?”

I’m smiling like a fool, wanting to tease him for a bit longer but I can’t hold it back anymore. “Yes, of course.” And the joy appearing on his face is like the sun breaking through the clouds. “I would be very honored to be your unofficial husband.”

We laugh, and then we kiss, and it’s wet with tears and constantly interrupted because we’re both smiling so much. He’s got his hands in my hair and I’ve got one still on his jaw, and his eyes shine so brightly when they meet mine. He kisses my freckles.

At one point we topple into the bed. I half expect Monty to try and take things further, but he doesn’t, so we stick to kissing until we’re both too tired and just holding each other. As we’ve lit no lights, the room is dark. No sounds from outside drift in, and I’m perfectly content to be here in his arms, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. I don’t know if he’s still awake.

“I can’t believe you asked me to not-marry you, even after my stunt at the ball,” I whisper.

A moment passes. Then he chuckles. “What, the mask thing? All miscommunications and arranged weddings aside, I thought that was pretty hot.”

I laugh, pulling him closer to me. “What, the actual outfit or the fact that I pretended to be someone else?”

“Yes.”

I snort, burying my face in his hair. “You never change.”

“I don’t? Then what was that entire speech from earlier about?”

“You know what I mean.”

We fall back into a comfortable silence. After a bit, Monty raises his head to look me in the eye. In the scarcely lit room, his eyes are the blue of a sky right after the sun has set, deep and dark but still with the last lingering light in them, shining with the first stars of the night. His voice is barely a whisper. “Were you seriously worried I wouldn’t love you back?”

I shift a bit, moving higher onto the pillow so we can look at each other more easily. “I suppose I was. Though it’s a reasonable concern to have.”

“Is it?”

“I… I don’t know.”

He smiles, eyes sliding shut. “They’re just embellishments, all of it. Gold and silver and satin and gemstones, and balls and magic masks and castles and monarchies and titles. None of it matters. You know what does?”

“Hm?”

“You and me.”

I watch him. He looks so peaceful he could’ve been asleep. Maybe he is. He’s been getting drowsier and drowsier for the past half an hour. I don’t mind, though. I’m tired too. And tomorrow I get to wake up to his perfect face and see the stars in his perfect eyes as they settle on me, the first thing he sees. Before his royal duties and anything else - I’ll always be first.

I lean in, ever so slightly, trying not to stir too much in case I’ll wake him up. Feather-light, I brush some hair out of his face. He doesn’t open his eyes, but he smiles.

“Just you and me,” I whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand that's it! Sorry for the delay, I swear I only had like a paragraph left to write and postponed it for two weeks. Oops. My bad. Also me? Reusing things from both Murder at Mirror Manor and Star Crossed? Perhaps.  
> Anyway! Thank you for reading and hopefully until more fics! <3

**Author's Note:**

> did i intend for it to get this long? no. is anyone surprised? also no.  
> thank you for reading! i hope to post the second and third parts soon :)


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